


we stole a kiss or two (because of the rain).

by missgine (blueberry_muffin)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A little bit of angst, Alternate Universe - The Notebook (2004) Fusion, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, The Notebook AU, cuz why not, he'd look good in it tbh, i mean oikawa is in allie's blue dress, more like emotions with a sprinkle of smut, not too much smut, slight crossdressing i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberry_muffin/pseuds/missgine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa and Kuroo clear the clouds of misunderstanding between them. </p><p>[aka the notebook au no one needs]</p>
            </blockquote>





	we stole a kiss or two (because of the rain).

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MapacheLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapacheLuna/gifts).



> oikawa in allie's dress tho  
> he'd look good in that blue  
> think about it xD

Stupid, Oikawa is stupid. So, so stupid.

 

He stumbles onto the wooden dock, almost slipping off from the force of heavy rain. It was a stupid idea to agree to go with him when he invited Oikawa for a boat ride. It was stupid pretending everything is alright. It was stupid visiting. It’s stupid to be near Kuroo in general, Oikawa thinks as he clenches his fists watching Kuroo tie the boat to the dock, unsure if he’s shaking from the chill of the downpour or the anger and hurt pumping through his veins.

 

Oikawa can barely stand to look at Kuroo (who looks so _calm,_ how dare he-) without _feeling_ things so he turns on his heel and marches towards the house (the one Kuroo built, the one that could have been his-theirs) not looking back to see if Kuroo is following. (He is, Oikawa knows he is and he hates that he knows.)

 

Oikawa stumbles into the house, almost slipping on the hardwood. Oikawa is irritated, he shouldn’t be here, the thunder is too damn loud, his dress is sticking to him in the most unpleasant of ways and Kuroo still can’t look him in the eyes, even after all these years, after everything they’ve been through.

 

He has some goddamned nerve to come crashing back into Oikawa’s life after everything. Kuroo had no right to barge back into his life, not after they broke it off as they did, not when Oikawa was destined to an arranged, loveless marriage, not when-

 

“Why didn’t you write me?”

 

Oikawa breathes harshly as Kuroo finally, _finally_ looks up from under his fringe and meets his stare; Kuroo looks confused.

 

“Why?!” Oikawa demands aggressively, hands shaking in anger and jaw clenched with the tears building in his eyes. “I waited for you for _seven years_ and now, now it’s too late!”

 

Oikawa’s anger has run its course, up and out into the open, the only thing left in him is the lingering sadness and heartbreak of seven long years. His lower lips quivers, his hair is flat and matte against his head, droplets falling down his face the way he expects his tears to fall-in a downpour as large as this one.

 

Oikawa turns his head and just as he’s about to go upstairs to collect his belongings, a hand reaches out to grasp his wrist, twisting him around and making him face Kuroo. “I wrote you three hundred and sixty-five letters,” he says, voice as ragged as he looks.

 

Oikawa can’t swallow past the lump in his throat; his heart beats painfully at the despair in Kuroo’s eyes. “What?” Oikawa’s voice is small, unsure, body shivering from the chill of the rain and shock.

 

“No,” he starts, shaking his head, faster and faster as the dam finally breaks and tears mix with rainwater. “No, you couldn’t have, I never received _one-_!“

 

No, Oikawa refuses to believe that. It can’t be. It _can’t_.

 

Kuroo takes a step closer to Oikawa, he stares at him with eyes wide with astonishment and a small spark of hope. “I wrote you everyday for a year.” He tells Oikawa, the statement sounding too sincere to be anything else but true.

 

“You...you wrote me?” Oikawa’s chest heaves; he unsure if it’s from the static tension around them or the humidity from the rain.

 

“Yes,” Kuroo admits, shudders running down both of their spines.

 

“You-,” Oikawa cut himself off. What did it matter anyway? If he kept looking at Kuroo, he would just remember everything that was-everything that could have been. “It’s too late.”

 

Oikawa waited for Kuroo that year after their summer together. He hoped and cried and convinced himself he moved on when he knew better. Had Kuroo waited as long as he had? Oikawa shakes his head, he shouldn’t be thinking these things. Not when they need to change from their soaked through clothes, not when he’s engaged to someone else, not when it’s too late.

 

It doesn’t matter what they had before, what they felt before, because it’s all inconsequential now. He believes Kuroo sent those letters, he really does. The tremble taking over his frame, the raw sincerity in his voice, Oikawa knows he’s telling the truth. But Oikawa is also telling the truth in that he never received those letters and now it’s too late.

 

“It wasn’t over,” Kuroo says, the low gravel of his voice steady. Oikawa shakes his head and closes his eyes, how can he face his fiancee now that-

 

Oikawa gasps when he feels warm, calloused hands on his cheeks, his eyes flutter open and he sucks in harsh breaths because Kuroo is right there and- “It still isn’t over,” Kuroo affirms before he slots his lips over Oikawa’s, thumbs brushing the rain and tears gathered on his cheeks to the side.   

 

Oikawa’s hands lift on their own to tangle in Kuroo’s messy, wet mane, trying hard not to think (and failing) of how good it feels to finally be able to _breathe._ Because that’s what Oikawa feels like. Like he’s just broke over the surface of the water after being submerged too long, like a bird whose wing had been injured and was now able to fly again, like a flower blooming in the spring after a long, harsh winter.

 

Oikawa inhales and everything is Kuroo, his unruly hair tangles in Oikawa’s fingers, his lips burning Oikawa’s jaw with hot kisses, the heat of his hands searing Oikawa through his wet dress. Seven years apart made him new, but he was still so familiar. Kuroo. _Tetsurou._ How long had Oikawa waited for this? How many times had he imagined this? Too many to count and it certainly didn’t matter as it was currently happening. His engagement, his fiancee, all the consequences left Oikawa’s head with each panting breath, with every squeeze of Kuroo’s hands around his waist, with every kiss on his lips.      

 

Oikawa’s world narrowed until the only thing he could focus on was his hands grabbing the collar of Kuroo’s shirt, pulling Kuroo towards him, kissing Kuroo back as fervently as he’s wanted to.

His legs shake and they feel like they’ll give out on him and when Kuroo slides his hands from his waist down to cup Oikawa’s ass, they buckle.

 

Oikawa gasps as he’s pressed against the wall, his back arching when he feels the puffs of Kuroo’s breath on his neck, moistening the damp skin even more. Kuroo pulls and the buttons of Oikawa’s dress pop off, pulling down what he can and nipping at Oikawa’s newly revealed collar bones. The air cools Oikawa’s chilled skin even more, still wet from the rain, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of Kuroo’s touch.

 

Oikawa releases his hands from Kuroo’s hair and pulls his arms out of the short sleeves of his dress, pushing the material down, releasing Kuroo’s waist for a moment to kick it off, Kuroo’s hands sliding up his thighs immediately after.

 

Oikawa expects a wall at his back, but is pleasantly surprised when Kuroo walks them up the stairs, heading to the bedroom. Kuroo loses his pants along the way, along with his shirt. Oikawa bounces when his back hits the bed, chest rising rapidly.    

 

Kuroo looks at him and Oikawa shivers. It’s less of the fact he’s staring-many people have stared at Oikawa, he’s used to that-but how he’s staring. Kuroo looks at him like Oikawa is his entire world-and maybe he is. Kuroo did promise Oikawa the heavens all those summers ago. Time has done nothing to Kuroo’s gaze except intensify it and Oikawa isn’t too opposed to it if it has the man of his dreams staring at him like a blind man finally seeing the world for the first time.

 

Kuroo bites his lip as he stares at Oikawa laid out beneath him, watching his chest heave and body tremble. Kuroo’s hands trails up Oikawa’s chest and Kuroo’s fingers flutter out to Oikawa’s ribcage, tracing each bone with the slight slide of his fingers, abdominal muscles twitching under his touch. He smiles when Oikawa arches into his touch, smiles when he feels Oikawa’s legs raise to wrap around his waist, smiles at the soft gasps and breathy “Tetsurou” that leaves Oikawa’s pink lips.

 

This man will be the death of him.

 

Kuroo’s hands trail all the way down until they stop at Oikawa’s hips, thumbs barely brushing underneath the hem of Oikawa’s underwear. “May I?”

 

Kuroo has to restrain himself from wasting an opportunity like this when Oikawa whispers a “Yes.” He doesn’t know what will happen after this but knows better than to think they could possibly have a fairytale happy ending. He’ll cherish with what he’s offered, he’s content with this now.

 

Kuroo hooks his thumb in the hem of Oikawa’s underwear and pulls it down. He lifts Oikawa’s legs and bends them at the knee, taking care as he drags his underwear off of him. Oikawa is shivering beneath him and Kuroo can’t help himself as he hunches over to kiss the bones of Oikawa’s hips, the tops of his thighs, lips twitching in amusement when Oikawa whines as Kuroo leans back, ignoring Oikawa’s hardness as he leans back up again.

 

He sits up properly and takes Oikawa’s legs in hand, fingers dipping into the elastic of Oikawa’s stockings, pulling it and then the other off and dragging his fingers against the skin of the legs he’s missed so much. Oikawa’s red-faced and squirming beneath him, liking the attention but also wanting more. “Tetsurou…” Oikawa breathes and Kuroo is gone, lost at sea that is made of Oikawa’s eyes, body, and voice.

 

Kuroo reaches over to the bedside table, pulling open a drawer and taking out a small vial of oil. Oikawa is watching him expectantly, blush high on his cheeks and glare just as demanding as he remembers. Kuroo knows that glare means he’s close to getting in trouble so he doesn’t dally. He prepares Oikawa with patience, but with none of the drawn out touches of before. His fingers scissor and stretch and slide until Oikawa is gasping into Kuroo’s neck brokenly for him to stop, that he’s ready, to just do it already, and Kuroo was never one to deny Oikawa anything-seven years apart didn’t change that it seems.

 

He watches Oikawa’s face as he slowly pushes in, hands fisted into the sheets at Oikawa’s sides, taking in the trembling of his thighs, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the arch of his back. Kuroo pulls back and pushes back in just to see it all over again.

 

Kuroo sets the pace before Oikawa can say anything, he starts out languidly slow, dragging out the moment like insects falling through sap, Oikawa’s gentle moans a light breeze, Kuroo’s touches soft and slow and sticky, like the pouring of molasses.   

 

Moments aren’t meat to last forever, however, and soon enough Kuroo begins to feel that tell-tale pooling of heat in his stomach. He doesn’t want this to end, but as he gazes down at Oikawa, who’s hand is grasping his so hard it might actually break, Kuroo knows he’s not the only one close, not the only one desperate for release and desperate for more stolen moments (and stolen touches and kisses and smiles, but never love, Kuroo’s never had to steal that).

 

Kuroo speeds up when he knows he shouldn’t, breaths being punched out of him with every drag of Oikawa’s nails down his back, with every jerk of Oikawa’s hips into his own, with every toss of his head and lips sweetly sobbing out “ _Tetsurou_ ” with every exhalation.

 

Kuroo isn’t quite sure who climaxes first, but neither seem to know or care, content with coming down from their highs pressed tightly together. Oikawa whines when Kuroo pulls out from him, but Kuroo soothes him with a hand on his back and a kiss to his forehead. Oikawa moves until his head is buried into Kuroo’s neck. Soon enough his breaths even out and his grip on Kuroo’s arm going slack. Kuroo doesn’t know what morning will bring, but he’s thankful he’ll get to see Oikawa bathed in morning light at least once more.  

 

Kuroo can say he’s not happy with this situation, unsure of Oikawa’s thoughts and final decision but he can’t find it in himself to regret this. Not to say that Kuroo doesn’t regret, because he does. He regrets not doing more, being more, but he’s never regretted Oikawa.

 

Kuroo doesn’t want any more regrets.

 

So, before Oikawa wakes up, Kuroo places a bouquet of flowers and a note telling him to follow the little arrows he’s placed on the floor beside his pillow. The little arrows lead to the highest room of the house, whose roofing is starkly different from the rest of the house-it’s made of glass. Kuroo isn’t able to give Oikawa the heavens, but he can give him a view he won’t be able to find anywhere else.

 

[Oikawa cries when he finds the room. If he wasn’t sure what to do before, he’s sure now.]

**Author's Note:**

> i regret nothing  
> [was supposed to be working on the bachelor au but as you can see that didn't happen lmao]


End file.
